Verlustiging

Ek verlustig my

In die taalryke tong van my land

Tussen rol erre en klieks en grommende keelklanke

Die Romanse van die dansende kleintongetjie

 

Ek verlustig my

In die Kleurryke disse van my land

Van stapelvoedsel tot fynproewer amperse smake

Wat met tekstuur, kraakklanke en aromas

My sinne streel

 

Ek verlustig my

In die liefderyke mense van my Land

Wat saam teen samehorigheid uitvaar

En die Andserse bly aanbid

 

Ek verlustig my

In die glorieryke natuur van my Land

Waar God vir ons ‘n klaar legkaart gegee het 

Met biljarde stukke

Wat ons een-een verbrand

en later sal moet vind.

 

Ek verlustig my

 

Ek verlustig my

Oh to be an African!

I’d understand if you’d refuse that I should call me Black. 

‘Cause I ain’t black by far.

 

But you’d have me tick the Black square,

 

I’d understand that I could not call myself  ”African” if my African roots were not so deep that they are recorded in cave drawings not far from my Dad’s and His Dad’s childhood home.

 

I’d understand.

 

I’d understand if it were not you who spent more time in Europe than in Africa.

 

Exiled you say??

 

Why did YOU not rather stay and die like some I knew and loved? 

 

And then be buried an African on African soil?

PARENTING

I have the privilege of raising (or perhaps more accurately – occasionally assisting my wife in raising) two sons. Christian Anthony is now four years and eight months old and John Patrick two years and eight months old. 

They could not be more different except for the fact that they are often described by friends and acquaintances as the happiest and most confident kids that people have met for a while.

As a parent, one could probably not ask for more. So I wonder what has contributed to these characteristics, if it is something that my wife and I have done or whether we have just been lucky. And in the not knowing is tied up the concern that we’re gonna mess it up, of course…

My wife has stayed at home to raise them after we had decided that we would do this while we were able and if so, until they went to primary school. Of course, sacrifices have had to be made but for now, we’ll hang in there. 

Spare a thought for us. We’re doing our best.

The techno glitch

I have made a quiet survey of my closest friends and have decided that I will no longer be sending personal emails to those of them who have their emails diverted straight to their phones.

Let me tell you why.

You see, Other than when I’m not shooting off a quick response from a meeting environment, I take trouble crafting emails. I word them carefully, I reread them. I put in words and phrases which qualify statements. I number my points if I am putting in place a reasoned response so that people can respond to each individual point.

Then I send this off to friends just waking up who have a cellphone beep on their bedside/ or in the middle of something else they are doing etc who read this email as if its an sms, responds to the general impression it creates in their heads rather than to the actual content and fire from the hip…

I shall no longer be sending emails to phones…

I shall be sending SMSs or calling.

Technology does call for a changed approach to people sometimes…